Small black fine line tattoo of Roman-style numerals with triangle shapes on the outer side of a foot.

Triangle and numeral tattoo on a foot

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A small black tattoo of a row of Roman-style numerals with triangular forms sits on the side of a bare foot. The linework is thin and even, with solid black ink and no shading. The skin is warm toned and the background is dark, which keeps the tattoo as the clear focus of the frame.

Fine line Geometric Other Roman numeral Triangle Line Numeral Foot

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dell had the ladder braced against the gate post before the mist lifted, the tin of black gloss already stirring in his hand. The council man would be round by ten to measure the field for the sale, and the old board had to look like the show still meant to come back. Damp had got into the lettering. Two of the triangles had flaked to nothing, and the numerals beside them were bleeding into the grain.

Keep reading

His mother had painted the board the summer he turned nine, when the Morrows still had eight acts and a brass band that played in the wrong key. She drew each triangle as a pitch, a place where the wagons stopped, and cut the Roman numerals to match the running order: five for the strongman, seven for the flyers, eight for the clowns who ate their own hats. Nobody in town could read it without counting on their fingers, which had been the point.

He drew the first triangle clean, then the V, and found his hand wanted to slow down for the I's. Three strokes each, thin as wire and straight as the rope he had walked as a boy. Cold Ashby stayed quiet. A car crept along the lane, slowed at the gate, and carried on without anyone looking out.

The council man arrived at twenty past ten with a clipboard and a tape measure. Dell stepped down, wiped his fingers on his trousers, and let him read the board. 'Eight acts,' the man said. 'Is that how many you're still running?' Dell looked at the last unpainted stroke, then at the empty grass where the big top had stood. 'Eight,' he said, and capped the tin.